


Innocence

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Category: Cabal - Clive Barker, Nightbreed (1990)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-29
Updated: 2004-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peloquin reminds Boone who made him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> Involves consumption of body fluid and flesh. Mostly inspired by the film (can you beat Oliver Parker's portrayal of Peloquin?), but heavily based on ideas from the book.

_/Innocence./_

Peloquin had used that word to describe him. Nights passed, and still it bounced around inside Boone's skull, shutting out the city sounds of Midian, the whispering in the walls, the Law as Kinski tried to instruct him.

 _/Innocence./_

No one had ever called him innocent. Aaron Boone: habitual problem child, schizophrenic, delusional psycho. As one of his many foster mothers had said, "Aaron, you were born a sinner, and ain't nuthin in the world gonna save your sorry hide. God Himself don't want you." Religion never helped, not even the thick, hardcover Bible she had used to knock out two of his teeth. The only myths he'd ever believed were those of Midian, where sins would be forgiven, where there would be no pain, where the monsters lived. And those myths were spoken by madmen, believed only in those dark times when the medication wasn't enough, or too much.

No, Boone had never believed in innocence; from the moment his real mother pushed him into the arms of that social worker, he had known he was damaged goods. Born evil. Existing only to hurt others with his madness. Weak, pathetic little Aaron.

 _/I've killed people. I've killed 15 people!/_

 _/Who told you that? He LIED, asshole!/_

Boone looked down at his hands, ashen white even in the dim yellow torchlight. He was dead, yet the blood still flowed in his veins. He could almost see it through his cool, pale skin. His wounds cried slow tears of blood, soaking any shirt that he would try to wear. He was dead, but he was still functioning. He was no longer Natural, as Peloquin had called him, but he wasn't Nightbreed, not yet. And surely, he was not innocent.

Boone closed his fists, shoving them deep into his pockets. Even without a shirt or his jacket, he didn't feel cold. The catacombs brimmed with life, 'Breed cowering in every corner. The air was like a womb--warm and wet and comforting, even though it smelled of death. Blindly, Boone stumbled down the corridors, letting his feet guide him through the complex maze of rooms and stairs and rickety bridges. One could easily get lost in Midian, forever wandering through the wonders of this netherworld, yet he always seemed to be able to find his way. It was as if he belonged here, even though he had never felt more alien in his skin than he did in this place.

'Breed gave way before him, the Tribes of the Moon scrambling to the shadows, still not trusting this once-Natural creature that stalked their world. They seemed to be waiting for something. Watching him. Following him...

Boone felt the growl rather than heard it. The sound was primal, and familiar. He had last heard it above ground, when a monster made flesh was after his blood.

 _/I can smell innocence at 50 yard./_

A heavy body fell upon his back, pushing Boone into the rough packed-soil wall. It crumbled under his cheek, filling his nose with musty decay. Fingers tipped with claw-like nails dug painfully into the skin of his upper arms, lacerating his biceps and making his shoulder wound throb and tear. The growl echoed in his ear, his skin vibrating with the deep rumbling. When Peloquin finally spoke, his every word was a low, curling purr.

"I could track you through hell, Meat." Warm skin brushed his cheek, Peloquin's face pressed up against his as his body covered Boone's back. Peloquin breathed in, then let it out in a long snarl. "You still smell the same."

Boone caught his own breath, trying to block out the memory of teeth sinking into his flesh. "Innocence?" he asked, glad his voice came out calm, almost mocking.

His laughter was like rocks breaking. "You have no idea..." His words trailed off into a sigh.

Boone tested his strength, straining to push himself away from the wall, but Peloquin held him steady, immovable. Peloquin nuzzled into his cheek, moving like an animal as he dipped his head to where the bite still marked Boone's shoulder. The torn skin itched, THROBBED, at Peloquin's nearness. It felt like it was coming to life, begging for its master to finish his work, to rend flesh and bone with those animal teeth.

Boone could feel Peloquin's lips at the top edge of the wound. Blood, brown-red and thick, covered the skin that refused to heal. Peloquin's tongue was wet, soft, burning against the coolness of his skin. Boone didn't quite feel pain anymore, but it was disturbing: his inner flesh so open and vulnerable, laid bare by the bite that had given him passage to the world of the Nightbreed. The way that Peloquin could just reach inside with his tongue, lapping at the shredded remains of skin and muscle.

No, it didn't exactly hurt. The not-quite-pain made his spine tingle. Boone could feel IT--that Thing, that infection that got into his blood and started his transformation into 'Breed, that made it possible to overcome death. Whatever it was that turned this feeling of being slowly, methodically devoured into a pleasure that shook Boone to his very soul.

"Stop." Boone stammered out the word, not sure if it was intelligible as his body shook around it, each rasping, nipping, sucking touch of Peloquin's mouth forcing his body to react out of his control. It was like...

It was like being eaten alive.

Good thing he was already dead.

Peloquin purred into the torn skin, his pleasure evident in his voice as in his body. He ground hard against Boone's back, pushing a solid and burning hot erection against his ass. Boone could feel it when Peloquin breathed out his humanity, his features melting into that even more demonic face that hunted him through the night. His breath was like a solid thing, seeping in through the lacerations in his skin and infusing his sluggish blood with monstrous life.

Suddenly, Boone could feel pain.

He screamed, or tried to, his throat locking around the sound as his spine whipped and cracked, spasms nearly tearing him apart as every inch of his body stung, burned, bled from the inside out. He could feel that breath, that solid magic breath, crawling through his body, touching every cell and calling it back to screaming, tortured life.

Sometimes, being unable to die was a very, very bad thing.

Peloquin moved against him with renewed strength, holding him down as he thrashed within those arms, against that body. He seemed to chuckle between his snarling animal sounds, enjoying every pain-wracked shudder. "So sweet," Peloquin growled into his ear before gripping his arms hard and turning Boone around to face him.

Peloquin hardly left his skin, falling on top of his body as he pressed his back into the crumbling wall. He rubbed his erection against Boone's hip, clawing fingers roaming his skin to leave long seeping gashes in his arms and sides. Boone bashed his head against the wall, yearning for the peace of unconsciousness to end the torture that was eating him away from the inside, but he couldn't hit hard enough. Peloquin finally wound one long fingered hand around his chin, holding him steady, forcing Boone to look into his monstrous face.

Those glowing green eyes, a colour too impossible to natural. "You have no idea what you are." The words were distorted, coming from that twisted, animal mouth.

Even twisting amid his torture, Boone was defiant, irreverent. "Meat."

Peloquin laughed at that, a barking, rumbling laugh. He thrust against Boone, his facing coming very near until his features were just a red blur. "Still so innocent. You have no idea..." He purred again, long and low, and then bent his face to Boone's lips.

Boone could taste the sourness of his flesh and blood in Peloquin's mouth, and he sealed his lips tight, trying to turn his face to the side to get away from it. Peloquin wouldn't let him; he latched on around Boone's lips, sucking and pulling and biting until Boone finally opened completely. Peloquin's breath tickled his cheek as he breathed out his nose, and then it was as if he was sucking Boone's soul out from his mouth, breathing it in.

Boone coughed, gagged, clawed desperately at Peloquin's face as he tried to get away. All that pain, all that awful, torturous LIFE flowed out of his body and back into Peloquin. It was like dying all over again.

Peloquin finally stumbled away, his steps clumsy as he released Boone. The creature slumped against the wall, one hand lifted to his bloodstained mouth, wiping at the wetness there. His face was normal again, as normal as any 'Breed could be said to look.

The pain was gone, but that strange, frightening pleasure still sang beneath his cold, dead skin. Boone turned his head to the side, one hand reaching up to touch the gaping wound on his shoulder. It was wet, gleaming with blood and saliva, but the skin was hardly changed. For a moment, Boone had thought he'd find half his arm gone. "What did you do to me?" he demanded, fighting down that alien call in his blood to beg for Peloquin do it again.

Peloquin licked around his mouth, savoring the taste. "The mark is mine. Even if The Unmade One claims you, you will always belong to me, first. I made you."

"What did you do to me?" Boone demanded again, tired of Peloquin's games, tired of the way that everyone talked about things down here--"Below"--that he still struggled to understand. He pushed himself up off the wall, surprised to find that he could walk, stand, move without that pain, without soreness. He felt energized, better than he had in days. And angry--very, very angry.

Peloquin finished wiping his face, licking away the last of the blood from his fingertips. "Ask your Advocate. He's your teacher; I'm just your maker." Slowly, deliberately, Peloquin breathed out through his mouth, pushing hard with his lungs. A mist, crackling with energy flowed between his teeth, curling and dancing before his face as it melted and reformed into the bestial visage again. Before the mist could dissipate, Peloquin breathed it back in, returning to his regular form. Even though he had seen it--FELT it--Boone still couldn't understand it.

Peloquin laughed again, this time mockingly, like an adult amused at the antics of a silly, simple child. "So innocent."

His laughter followed Boone as he stalked through the halls of Midian, unable to escape the sound.


End file.
